


be as you've always been (lover, be good to me)

by peachyykat



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Bottom Richie Tozier, Eddie is having problems, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Richie is a Phone Sex Operator, Smut, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, Top Richie Tozier, i'm not quite sure how to accurately tag this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyykat/pseuds/peachyykat
Summary: Eddie stares at the number emblazoned across his computer screen. It seems threatening, almost, the blue numbers standing out on the page. As if the contrast wasn’t enough, they’re also underlined. It seems like it’s mocking him. Here it is, you fucking weirdo, front and center. This is what you came for.Because, of course, displayed across his laptop is the number to a phone sex hotline.---Richie is a phone sex operator, Eddie is trying to figure things out. It gets.... complicated.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 70
Kudos: 479





	be as you've always been (lover, be good to me)

Eddie stares at the number emblazoned across his computer screen. It seems threatening, almost, the blue numbers standing out on the page. As if the contrast wasn’t enough, they’re also underlined. It seems like it’s mocking him.  _ Here it is, you fucking weirdo, front and center. This is what you came for.  _

Because, of course, displayed across his laptop is the number to a phone sex hotline.

Being gay, as it turns out, is not as easy as Eddie thought it would be. He thought the only thing he’d really have to do was leave his wife and the rest would fall into place. He’s quickly discovered that there’s an element to dating as a gay man that wasn’t present when he was still masquerading as straight; there’s always a risk involved in-person, a dance,  _ if I buy you a drink will you beat the shit out of me _ . It’s difficult for him to identify other members of the LGBT community (which he’s recently realized he’s a part of, the acronym still feels distant in his mind, not quite like an identity). Eddie’s also spent so long married and turning a blind eye to any flirtatious advances that may have been made on him that he’s gotten very,  _ very  _ bad at picking up on them. Not that he was the best at noticing when someone was flirting with him in the first place.

Bev had dragged him to a bar one night, insistent that he needed to get out of the shoebox apartment he was currently renting. 

(He likes the apartment, secretly, it’s his  _ own  _ thing, and he’s glad to have it. It’s a bit cramped, but it’s homey and nothing like the frankly gaudy decor of the home he’d shared with Myra. There’s pictures on the wall of Bev, Bill and Mike, and some of all of them together; there’s enough room for him and a warm mug of tea and that’s all he needs right now. It’s neat, organized, and it feels like him.)

He’d been sitting at the bar, nursing an old fashioned (rye, not brandy, not sweet but with a splash of white soda on top, thank you  _ very  _ much) and a man had approached him. 

“Let me get you another one of those,” he’d said, nodding at Eddie’s drink. He had been attractive, tan skin with dark, curly hair and a scruffy, square jaw. They’d talked for a couple of hours. Bev had passed by him and winked at one point, arm looped around the waist of a tall blonde woman. She’d texted him later, telling him not to wait for her, and he’d excused himself, slipping out the door to call an Uber. The man had looked vaguely annoyed, to Eddie’s recollection, and he couldn’t fathom why.

Bev had called him the next afternoon, asking how it went with the ‘pretty guy’.

“What do you mean?” Eddie had said, fastidiously dusting the living room shutters while Whitney Houston sang about wanting to dance with somebody in the background.

“What do you mean, what do I mean,” Bev had said, “spill!”

“There’s nothing to spill,” Eddie had said. “I went home pretty much right after you texted me.”

“Awww, were you not into him? It looked like you were!” Bev had asked. 

“No, I thought he was- handsome, I guess, I just didn’t know if he was gay,” Eddie had said. “Didn’t want to be. Presumptuous.”

There had been a solid minute of silence from Bev’s end of the phone.

“Are you,” she’d started, then taken a deep breath. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Wh- No!” Eddie had said, standing upright. “He didn’t say anything to me about-”

“Eddie!” she’d yelled, “He bought you a drink!  _ Several  _ drinks!”

“I buy drinks for work associates all the time,” Eddie had muttered, quickly realizing why Mr. Jawline had looked more than slightly miffed as Eddie had left the bar.

“ _ Work associates _ ?”

“Oh God,” Eddie had said, putting his face in his hands. “I’m so bad at this.”

“No shit,” Bev had said, exasperated and fond at once. 

Real life dating had been a bust. Mike had kindly recommended Grindr as an easy way to meet people. Bill had been the one to help him set it up.

“Do I have to take pictures of. Of myself?” Eddie had asked, filling out the profile.

“Yes,” Bill had said, taking the phone from his hand. “You have abs. Use them.”

He’d taken one shirtless picture, a selfie in the mirror, with his face cut out because even he could tell he looked  _ incredibly  _ uncomfortable. The messages had rolled in fairly quickly:

_ Hey baby. _

_ send pix _

_ Nice bod, stud ;) _

_ Want to lick those abs _

Eddie had quickly deleted the app after thinking about the prospect of having to meet any of the men in real life and had gone to deep-clean his bathroom. As he furiously scrubbed his sink with industrial-grade disinfectant, he mourned his non-ability to meet anyone in real life, to be gay the “right” way. He  _ knew  _ he was attracted to men, he  _ knew  _ he wanted to have sex with men, but the whole prospect had seemed so daunting that he’d always frozen at taking the leap into an actual in-person meeting. 

That’s why he’s here now, alone with shitty, cheap boxed wine on a Friday night, sitting in front of his laptop in a dark room. It feels ridiculously trope-y and a little bit gross, but he knows that this is the only thing he really has the capacity for right now. It’s easy, no talking face-to-face involved, and if he wants, he never has to call the hotline again. They won’t even know who he is. 

He takes a deep breath and dials the number, wine glass in hand.

“Hello, you’ve reached-,” is as far as the operator gets before Eddie hangs up, panicked. He presses a pillow over his face and screams out of frustration.

\--- 

He tries again, a week later, with significantly more alcohol in his system and a new fortitude born of stubbornness. This time, when the operator politely greets him, he closes his eyes and answers her. She asks him a few questions (mostly what he’s looking for, he makes sure to specify a man, and also asks if he’s ever done this before. This question seems kinder than the rest, and he thinks maybe she can tell he’s a nervous and slightly drunk wreck). She takes his card information, informs him he’ll be billed by the minute, and he agrees, calmed slightly by the non-judgemental tone of her voice and the fact that she actually does this for a  _ job,  _ surely there are weirder people than Eddie out there.

“I’m going to transfer you now,” she says. “Don’t worry, the man I’m partnering you with is great with newcomers!”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, but he thinks he’s already been transferred. He hopes she knows how much he appreciates it.

“Hey,” comes a voice from the other line. Eddie’s surprised by it. It’s not the deep, sultry stereotype of a voice that he’d been expecting. It makes the other man less threatening, somehow, his voice is still nice but not  _ perfect _ .

“Hello?” Eddie says. He has no idea where to go from here.

The man laughs, but somehow it doesn’t seem like he’s laughing at Eddie. 

“We don’t have to get into it right away,” the man says. “Ria said it was your first time calling. Why don’t we start with a name? What can I call you?”

“Eddie,” Eddie says, and kicks himself for using the name he  _ actually  _ goes by. He’d gone into this planning to use an entirely different name, give himself an out if he makes some horrible blunder and cannot ever make himself known to this man.

“Eddie,” the man says, and something about the way he says it makes Eddie shiver. 

“What can I call you?” Eddie asks, emboldened.

“Hmm,” the man hums, “you can call me Dick.”

“Are you fucking serious,” Eddie says before he can stop himself. 

The man barks out a surprised laugh. “Okay, we’re not feeling that one. Too on the nose, I get it!” He stops, seemingly contemplating. “How about Richie? You good with that one?”

Eddie appreciates that the man-  _ Richie _ \- is making sure that he’s comfortable with even this small thing and a small bloom of gratitude grows warm in his chest. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” he says. He feels awkward, not able to fill the silences that fall in between Richie’s questions and his short answers.

“Right, Richie it is,” Richie says. “Where are you, Eddie? You comfortable?”

“Um,” Eddie says. “I’m on my couch.”

“Curtains closed?” Richie asks, teasing, and Eddie’s face flushes. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice low.

“ _ Per _ fect,” says Richie. “What do you want to do, Eddie?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. He can’t make himself voice what he wants. He desperately wants to melt into the floor.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m here to talk to you,” Richie says, good-natured. “What would you want me to do if I was there?”

Eddie is mute, face fire-engine red, and he can’t make himself talk, too busy picturing Richie and what he might look like.

Richie’s voice comes soft, filtered through the phone speaker. “You want me to suck your cock? Do you like that?”

Eddie whimpers and Richie laughs quietly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, and Eddie wants to say  _ yes, yes, please,  _ but all the blood in his brain is rapidly moving toward his cock.

“Where would you want me to start?” Richie asks, and Eddie’s quickly learning that Richie can fill in the silences on his own, that not every question has to have an answer because Richie will quickly provide one. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes,” Eddie says breathlessly. “Please.”

“There he is,” Richie says, and his voice has gone lower, a bit more breathy, and Eddie bites back another whimper. “We’d start with that. I’d suck your tongue into my mouth, let go, bite your bottom lip.”

Eddie imagines it, imagines the slick slide of Richie’s tongue against his and the sharp pain of Richie biting his lip, and outright moans.

“I’d run a hand across your chest,” Richie says, “pinch one nipple, then the other.”

Eddie finds himself mirroring Richie’s words, trailing a hand down his own chest and caressing his nipples. They harden under his touch, and he groans under his breath.

“I’d drop to my knees,” says Richie, voice almost a growl. “I’d unzip your pants. I’d take your cock in my hand and stroke it slowly. Can you feel it, Eddie?”

“Yes,” Eddie gasps, cock in hand. He does as Richie says, slowly stroking his cock, now fully hard.

“I’d take the tip into my mouth,” Richie says. “I’d swirl my tongue around the head- I bet you get wet, don’t you, Eddie baby?”

“Oh, God,” Eddie moans. “Yeah, fuck.”

“I’d suck the precome off the tip,” Richie continues. “I’d focus on the head of your cock, not taking in any more for a bit. Do you want me to take more, Eddie?”

“Please,” Eddie gasps. “Yes.”

“I’d pull off,” Richie says, and Eddie reluctantly stops before Richie continues, “then I’d take all of it, swallow you down all the way.”

“Fuck,” Eddie says. “God yes, Richie-”

“You like that?” Richie asks. “You want to feel my throat around your cock? Want me to take it so far I can’t even breathe?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, gasping, stroking his cock faster. “Richie…”

“You want to fuck my throat, baby?” Richie asks.

Eddie moans at that, then answers, emboldened, “ _ Fuck _ , yes, want to watch you drool, want to watch it drip down your face.”

“Oh, yeah?” Richie asks. “What else do you want?”

“I’d,” Eddie gasps, “I’d pull your hair. Fuck your throat,  _ fuck _ -”

“I’d take it,” Richie says, “I’d be good for you, Eddie baby.”

“God, yeah,” Eddie says, “you would, would look so good taking my fucking cock,  _ fuck  _ I’m so close-”

“Come down my throat,” says Richie, “I’d swallow it, all of it, and then lick your fucking cock clean, Eddie-”

And maybe he says something else, but Eddie doesn’t hear because he comes with a shout, cum striping his chest.

“Oh, God,” Eddie says, panting.

“Was it good?” Richie asks, and Eddie can practically hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

“Uh. Yeah,” Eddie answers, vision still slightly spotty. “Th. Thank you?”

“You’re welcome!” Richie says, and now Eddie  _ knows  _ he’s being a little shit.

“Cut me some slack, I think I just came so hard I forgot my name,” he says, and normally he might have a little more bite to his tone, but this man did just give him the most satisfying orgasm he’s probably ever had. 

“Fair’s fair,” says Richie, “you came out of your shell a little at the end there! You don’t have to be shy when you’re talking to me, I guarantee I’ve heard a  _ lot  _ worse than whatever you’re going to say to me.”

“I want  _ you _ to be comfortable too,” Eddie says, inhibitions loose from boxed wine and feeling fucked-out.

There’s a moment of silence, like Richie is surprised, and he says, “Comfortable isn’t exactly in my job description, Eds.” Another pause. “I appreciate it, though. You’re sweet.”

Eddie laughs sharply at that. “Don’t think anyone’s ever called me  _ sweet _ before.”

“Well, now someone has,” Richie says. “Cute, cute, cute.”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie hisses, and then remembers the nickname. “And don’t call me Eds. It’s Eddie.”

“You got it, Eddie,” Richie says easily. “I’ll remember for next time.”

Eddie reels at this. He hasn’t considered the possibility that there could  _ be  _ a next time, but he considers that it’s perfectly reasonable that people can connect with their preferred partners through the hotline, that he could just call and ask for Richie and be transferred to him.

“I think you’re a little overconfident,” Eddie says.

“Uh- _ huh _ ,” Richie says, and Eddie should be indignant at his bravado, the fact that he’s definitely made fun of Eddie at least once now, but he finds that he enjoys just  _ talking  _ to Richie too. There’s a sense of familiarity there that he wants to grasp onto like a lifeline.

“Okay,  _ Dick _ ,” Eddie says, and Richie laughs. “I’ll talk to you. Next time.”

“Overconfident, huh?” Richie asks, then says “Bye,  _ Eds _ !” before Eddie can answer.

Eddie, as he heads for the shower, did not find the whole experience as mortifying as he thought it would be. He knows he’s still a little awkward ( _ years of repression will do that to you,  _ he thinks, a grim joke that’s not all that funny) but Richie was nice. Charming, even. He tries to focus on this and not the idea of Richie, still faceless in his mind, on his knees, letting Eddie fuck his throat.

\---

Bev texts him later, telling him about a fellow designer she thinks he would think is cute, and he finds himself still unwilling to meet someone face-to-face (ignores the strange attachment he still has to Richie, the feeling that he would be  _ cheating  _ somehow). 

He holds off for about a week. He’s trying not to rely on this,  _ knows  _ that he shouldn’t be as dependent on Richie already, but he wants to hear his voice again-

And Richie had made him feel more comfortable about being openly sexual than anything else in his life possibly could, had provided him with a safe and non-judgemental space, a faceless partner he could trust not to out him to the whole world if something goes wrong.  _ Here’s Eddie Kaspbrak, he wants another man to suck his dick, point and laugh at him. _

He dials the number again. The receptionist remembers him (he should feel embarrassed, but she sounds so genuinely glad to hear from him again that he’s not. She’s very good at her job).

“Do you want me to put you through to Richie?” she asks, and there’s a rustle of paper in the background. “I don’t think he’s with a client right now!”

“Yes, please,” Eddie says, quiet.

“All right!” she says cheerily. “One moment!”

There’s a moment of quiet, then Richie’s voice comes through the other line, amused. “Knew you couldn’t stay away.”

“Don’t gloat,” Eddie grouses. “You’re getting paid. Be nice to me.”

Richie laughs. “What are you wearing, Eddie?”

“Isn’t that a little cliche?” Eddie asks, but he can’t stop himself from smiling. “Sweatpants.”

“Anything else?” Richie asks, and he almost sounds like he wants to know, that it’s not just a professional courtesy. 

“Nnno,” Eddie says, looking at himself to double check. “That’s it.”

“Not even underwear,” Richie says. “Desperate. You wanna make it easy for me.”

Eddie swallows as he feels his cock harden. “I mean. Yeah.”

“What do you want me to do, Eddie?” Richie asks, and this time Eddie’s thought about it.

“I want to fuck you,” Eddie says, lazily stroking his cock.

“Oh,” Richie breathes. “Done some thinking about that one?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Richie huffs out a laugh. “What do you want me to do first? You want me to touch you?”

“Please,” Eddie says.

Richie’s voice dips low as he says, “Think I’d start with your chest. What do you look like, Eddie?”

Eddie’s hand stalls from the steady rhythm he’s built. “Um. I’m fit. I think?”

“Fit, you think,” Richie echoes. Eddie can almost hear the raised eyebrow. “You have abs, Eddie?”, and the question sounds a little  _ too  _ casual.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, subconsciously trailing a hand up his chest. “I do.”

“ _ Fuck _ , yes,” Richie says. “Okay, I’d  _ definitely  _ start with your chest. Want to take your nipples into my mouth, feel them harden against my tongue.”

Eddie whimpers at the idea, teasing his nipples as Richie talks. 

“I’d go down your chest,” Richie continues. “Kiss you all over. You want me to leave marks, Eddie baby?”, and there’s that nickname that goes straight to Eddie’s cock.

“Yeah,” Eddie gasps, “want you to use your teeth.”

Richie groans. “Fuck. Yeah. I’d stroke your cock while I leave marks all the way down your body. Can you feel it, Eddie?”

“Yes,” Eddie moans. “Fuck, Richie.”

“You want to prep me or do you want me to do it?” Richie asks, voice gravelly, and it takes Eddie a moment to realize what he means.

“Want to watch you,” Eddie says. 

“Okay,” Richie says, “I’d start with one finger, fucking myself in front of you,” he says, then breaks off for a moment. “Y-you like that? You like watching me?”

“Richie,” Eddie whimpers.

“I guess that’s a yes,” Richie says. “I’d add another one. Probably- ah- too fast. Want you to fuck me on your fat cock.”

“God,” Eddie moans.

“Try again,” Richie says.

“Richie,” Eddie whimpers, and Richie sighs in satisfaction.

“I’d work my way up to three, fucking myself, desperate for you,” Richie says. “Where do you want me? Would you bend me over the bed so you could fuck me harder, or do you want to see my face?”

“Wanna see your face,” Eddie groans. “Want to see you when you come.”

“I’d lay on my back for you,” Richie says. “Spread my legs like a whore.”

“Oh God,” Eddie says. “Fuck.”

“Waiting for you, Eddie baby,” Richie says.

“Fuck,” Eddie pants. “I’d tease you. Rub my cock against yours.”

“Oh, don’t,” Richie says, almost a whine, “want you to fuck me so bad, Eddie baby, don’t tease.”

“I’d,” Eddie says, stroking his cock faster now, “I’d push into you. Slow, until I was all the way inside you.”

“Please,” Richie says. “Come on, move, please.”

“God,” Eddie grits out, “I’d start slow. Don’t want to hurt you. I’d get faster, fuck you harder, until there wasn’t anything you could do but take it.”

“Fuck,  _ please _ , Eddie,” Richie pants. “Want you so bad,” and Eddie’s fucking his own hand thinking about Richie, eyes rolled back in his head, legs wrapped around Eddie’s waist.

“I’m so fucking close,” Eddie says. “Fuck, I’d fuck you hard, fast, wrap my hand around your cock.”

“Oh, God, Eddie,” Richie moans, “fuck, I’m going to come, you feel so fucking good inside me, baby. Love your thick fucking cock,  _ fuck _ -”

Eddie comes into his hand with a noise that’s almost a sob. He takes a moment to catch his breath and for his vision to go back to normal.

“You okay?” Richie asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Jesus, Richie.”

Richie laughs. “I’m good at what I do, Eds.”

Eddie snorts. He’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “What do you look like?”

“Oooh, you don’t wanna know that,” Richie says quickly. “The mystery is part of the fun. Right now, I look like whatever you want me to look like!”

“I want you to look like  _ you _ ,” Eddie says, stubborn. “Just tell me.”

Richie sighs in defeat. “Well. I’m 6’2”. I like to lead with that one. It’s probably my best quality.”

Eddie swallows. “You. Are six foot two.”

“Yep,” Richie says, popping the ‘p’. “Uh, my hair’s kind of long. It’s brown. Kind of curly. I wear glasses. Like Buddy Holly,” he laughs. “Kid me thought it was the greatest thing ever. Guess I never grew out of it.”

“You sound cute,” Eddie says, smiling.

Richie laughs, surprised. “Not sure that anyone would use the word ‘cute’ for me, but thanks, Eds.”

“It’s  _ Eddie _ , and I said the same thing when you called me cute, so get a taste of your own medicine, man,” Eddie says. “Keep going.”

“If that’s what does it for you, I guess,” Richie says. “I’m here as long as you want me. I’m uh. I’m kind of built like a dad?” he says with a laugh, and Eddie frowns at his self-deprecating tone. “No abs to be found here. I’m pretty broad, I think.”

Eddie realizes with dawning horror that the image of a man forming slowly in his mind is exactly his type. Tall, broad, a bit soft.

“You want me to keep going?” Richie asks, uncertain. “There’s not a lot else to tell.”

“What’s your face look like?” Eddie asks.

“Uhhhh,” Richie says. “I don’t know? I have blue eyes. Haven’t shaved in a minute.”

“Would you say your jaw is. Square?” Eddie asks, gripping the couch cushion so tight his knuckles are turning white.

“I guess,” Richie says. “What are you doing, taking notes? Are you trying to describe me to a criminal profiler?”

“No, I just want to know!” Eddie says, defensive.

“What about you?” Richie asks, voice taking on a teasing tone. “I want to draw your picture, too.”

“Ugh,” Eddie says before he can stop himself.

“You  _ sound  _ cute,” Richie says. “Come on, Eddie!”

“Fuck, fine,” Eddie says. “I have dark hair. Brown eyes. You already know I’m fairly fit.”

“Yeah, you have abs, dude!” Richie whoops. “This description sucks! How tall are you?”

“Fivefootnine,” Eddie says, grumbling.

“Didn’t catch that, chief,” Richie says.

“I’m five foot nine,” Eddie says reluctantly.

“Oh my God!” Richie crows. “You’re  _ tiny _ !”

“I’m not short, I’m  _ average, _ ” Eddie seethes. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, you dick!”

Richie ignores him. “I bet you’re adorable! I could sling you around like a sack of potatoes!”

Normally Eddie would protest, but the idea of Richie, big,  _ broad _ , able to push him around, is  _ incredibly  _ attractive.

“Eddieeee,” comes Richie’s voice, teasing. “You still there?”

“Yeah. Fuck you,” Eddie says, snapping out of his fantasy. 

“Again?” Richie asks. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I can’t smack you right now.”

“No, not lucky,” Richie says. “I’m into that.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “I want to hunt you down like I’m an island owner of mysterious wealth and you’re a stranded shipwreck survivor.”

“Sounds kinky,” Richie says, and Eddie drops the phone and screams into a pillow, which seems to be a recurring activity when he’s dealing with  _ anything  _ related to Richie.

When he picks the phone up, Richie is laughing so hard he can barely breathe. Eddie finds himself laughing, too. Richie’s laugh is goofy, infectious, and Eddie doesn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing it.

\---

He doesn’t wait as long before calling the next time, eager to hear Richie’s voice again. Eddie’s not even feeling particularly horny, he just wants to talk to him. 

“Oh, Richie’s not working tonight,” comes the operator’s voice, apologetic ( _ Ria _ , Eddie remembers vaguely. She’s sweet. Eddie likes her). “I can put you through to someone else, if you’d like? We have plenty of other partners available!”

“No, that’s okay, thanks,” Eddie says, heart sinking, and hangs up after she wishes him a good night.

Instead, he texts the groupchat (named ‘Bike + Spare Tires’, consisting of him, Bev, Bill, and Mike) and asks if anyone’s available to go out. He’s met with an immediate ‘hell ye bby’ from Bev and a confirmation from Bill and Mike that they can go too.

They meet at some hole-in-the-wall bar where Mike knows the owner. When he shows up, Bill is already on his way to at least tipsy.

“Eddieee,” he yells, and Mike hushes him, holding a hand steady against his back. Bev flutters her fingers in a wave from her seat next to them.

Eddie joins them, orders his drink. There’s a stage set up in the back of the bar where someone is introducing a performer- a comic, from the sounds of it, he doesn’t quite catch the name. He watches with mild interest as the guy steps onto the stage.

The comic is tall, broad. Eddie finds himself staring. The man is wearing coke-bottle glasses that reflect the bright lights. As he steps on stage, he runs a hand through the hair that curls slightly at the ends.

He’s funny, Eddie thinks idly as the man begins his set, but he’s more interested in what the guy looks like than what he’s saying, because he looks a  _ whole  _ lot like what Eddie’s been imagining Richie to look like. Eddie then downs the rest of his drink because the whole  _ point  _ of going out tonight was supposed to be keeping his mind off of Richie.

At one point, the comic notices Eddie staring. Eddie already has a pleasant flush to his cheeks from the alcohol that only deepens when the guy  _ winks  _ at him. Eddie looks away, flustered, and orders another drink.

Bev, who is currently chatting up a man with very soulful eyes and the body of a professional athlete, waggles her eyebrows at him. He responds with a glare, now intent on ignoring the hot comic for the rest of the night.

Bev leaves with the Soulful Guy, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek as she stands to leave. The Hanlons follow quickly, since Bill is an incredible lightweight and already starting to fall off of his chair. Eddie stays until the end of Hot Comic’s set.

Hot Comic finishes to a fair amount of applause. He looks directly at Eddie as he’s stepping off the stage, and Eddie panics. He closes his tab, gathers his belongings, and leaves as quickly as he can.

As soon as he’s home, he goes straight to the shower and jerks off quickly, thinking about Richie who now has Hot Comic’s face.

Eddie steps out of the shower to a voicemail from Bill drunkenly rambling for 10 minutes straight about how much he loves Eddie with about a 2 minute diversion to talk about a parallel universe theory (“Ithink. I think there areso  _ many universes _ . Is that a word, universe-es? It can be, I decided, I’m a writer and fuck you. And in every one, every one of them, Eddie, we are  _ best friends  _ and I  _ love you _ !”). He has another voicemail from Mike apologizing profusely, saying that he thought he’d hidden Bill’s phone. Nothing from Bev, but he hadn’t exactly expected it after he’d seen who she was leaving with. Good for her.

He climbs into bed and tries not to pout about not getting to talk to Richie.

\---

He calls the hotline several more times in the following weeks. He finds it’s easy to just  _ talk  _ to Richie. There’s a sense of bizarre familiarity, like he’s known Richie for far longer than the month-ish that he’s been calling.

“Hey, I have a question, actually,” Richie says, interrupting Eddie’s rant about someone he’d seen order a chai latte with 48 pumps of syrup.

“What?” Eddie asks, tirade forgotten.

“What would you think about me calling you from my personal number?” Richie asks.

“Wh- do you not want to get paid?” Eddie asks. “This is a terrible business model.”

“I like talking to you,” Richie says simply, and Eddie thinks  _ oh.  _ “If you want to like, maintain more professional boundaries, I get it, but if you wanna talk to me whenever I can definitely give you my actual number.”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Okay. I’d like that, I think.”

“Okay,” Richie laughs. 

They exchange numbers quickly and say goodbye. After he hangs up, Eddie keeps glancing at his phone, secretly hoping for a message. While he’s cooking dinner, his phone dings.

_ hello eddie spaghetti ;) _

Eddie groans out loud and texts back.

_ Absolutely not. _

_ u don’t like my nicknames for u :( _

_ The name I go by is already a nickname. I don’t need another one _

_ really because you seem to like eddie baby ;) ;) ;) _

Eddie blushes furiously, dinner prep abandoned. 

_ I should have known this was a terrible idea. _

_ nooooo don’t block me you’re so sexy ahahaha _

Eddie smiles at his phone. He’s glad Richie reached out, wanted to talk to him outside of his job. He ignores the panic building in the back of his mind about  _ boundaries  _ and  _ what if he wants to meet in real life _ , and chops furiously at an innocent tomato.

\---

He texts Richie frequently. They’ve formed something of a tentative friendship, which Eddie knows is bizarre given the circumstances under which they met each other, but he’s appreciative nonetheless.

He’s sat on the couch watching some documentary that Mike recommended to him when Richie texts him. Eddie frowns at the name in his phone. Richie doesn’t usually text this late. It’s worrying until he sees the text in the notification bubble.

_ hey do u want me to call you _

Eddie’s heart rate jumps incredibly high very quickly.

_ Do you mean _ , and his thumb hovers over the keyboard, unsure on how to proceed.

_ Do you mean ‘call’ call or just to talk? _

_ omg like ‘like’ like or just like,  _ comes Richie’s response, and Eddie doesn’t know why he expected anything else.

_ Dipshit. Sexy call or do you want to tell me about something you saw while you were running errands today. _

_ yes,  _ Richie replies, and Eddie has never wished so desperately to be next to Richie just so he could elbow-drop him. Instead, he calls Richie.

“Heya, Eds,” says Richie.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Eddie says in lieu of a greeting. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Well,” Richie says, “I was thinking about you fucking me, actually-”

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Eddie screeches, face red. “You can’t just say that out of nowhere, Richie!”

“Why?” Richie laughs. “Do you not want to?”

“I,” Eddie says, “We’re friends now! I thought!”

“Yeah,” Richie says, “I like you and I value our conversations, et cetera and so forth, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop having incredibly hot phone sex.”

“But,” Eddie says, resolve weakening, “you’re not getting paid.”

“Don’t need to,” Richie says simply. “I want to do this.”

“I thought you didn’t get anything out of it,” Eddie says. 

“Normally, I don’t,” Richie says. “Usually I’d be like, cleaning the kitchen while I was on the phone with a client. Or like, heating up a waffle or something.”

“Usually?” Eddie asks, and he sounds desperate even to himself.

“Yeah,” Richie says. “The second time you called I was. Uh. Really into it. Which is weird, because I don’t even technically know what you look like, but. You’re really hot.”

Eddie feels the familiar rush of blood to his cock thinking about the idea of Richie actually touching himself while on call with Eddie, phone tucked to his ear while he fucks himself with his hands. 

“Oh,” Eddie says, breathy, and Richie hums quietly.

“And the other times?” Eddie asks. 

“All of them except the first, yeah,” Richie says. “I don’t know what it is about you.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Eddie says, and then “Christ,” because he’s thinking about Richie with Hot Comedian’s face again.

“So, do you want-” Richie begins, and Eddie cuts him off with a frantic, “Yes. Fuck yes.”

“Okay,” Richie says, and Eddie cuts him off again.

“But I want you to fuck me,” he says, face flushed. 

“ _ Okay _ ,” Richie says, and then there’s a muffled clatter from the end of the line, like he’s dropped his phone.

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks tentatively once the shuffling noises have stopped.

“Yes, fuck yes,” Richie says. “I just didn’t expect that.”

“Well,” Eddie says. “I want you to.”

“Are you,” Richie says, stops. “Are you ready? Right now?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, because even before Richie had suggested calling him, he’d been planning on bending himself over the arm of the couch, imagining the Hot Comic/Richie hybrid fucking him into the cushions.

“God,” Richie says. “You are so fucking hot.”

“You don’t even know what I look like,” Eddie says.

“I know well enough,” says Richie. “Come on, Eddie, fuck.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “What do you want me to do? You want me on my knees?”

“Oh,” Richie breathes. “Yeah. Shit, Eddie.”

“I bet you’re fucking huge,” Eddie says. “Bet I can’t even take all of it into my mouth. I’d try, though. Choke on your fucking cock.”

“ _ Eddie _ ,” Richie moans, and knowing that he’s actually touching himself on the other end of the line adds another level of arousal to the whole ordeal that leaves Eddie almost dizzy.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes. “God, I want to taste you. Want you in my mouth so fucking bad.”

“Eddie, baby, c’mon,” Richie whines.

“What do you want, Richie?” Eddie asks. “Use your words.”

“Oh, my God,” Richie moans. “Fuck. Want to fuck you so bad.”

“Do it, then,” Eddie says.

“I’d, ah,” Richie says, “I’d start you slow. Don’t wanna hurt you. Start with one finger.”

Eddie grabs his lube from its current hiding place behind the middle couch cushion and hastily squirts some onto his fingers. He does as Richie says, mirroring his words.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans. “Give me more. Please.”

Richie inhales sharply. “Fuck, okay, I’d add another one. Fuck you slow. Wanna make it last.”

Eddie follows his prompting again, adding another finger and whimpering as he fucks himself, imagining Richie’s hands working inside him.

“You think you can take three, baby?” Richie asks. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and begins fucking himself with three fingers, quickly growing desperate to have Richie inside him. He hears Richie’s soft grunts filtered through the phone speaker.

“Are you gonna,” Eddie gasps, “are you gonna fuck me or what, come on, Richie.”

“Fuck, yes,” Richie says, panting. “Bet you’d take my cock so fucking well, Eddie baby. Bet you’d be so fucking tight, you’d feel so good,  _ fuck _ .”

Eddie scrambles to retrieve the other item hidden behind his couch cushions - a dildo, a surprise from drunk Eddie that he’d opened and then hidden in shame in the back of his closet until he’d started talking to Richie. He squirts more lube onto it and lines it up with himself, pushes it in slowly.

“ _ Richie _ ,” Eddie moans. “Oh, God, yes.”

“Can you feel it?” Richie asks, and he sounds as wild as Eddie feels. “Fuck, baby, wish I could feel you around my cock.”

Eddie whimpers as he pushes the dildo all the way inside himself, picturing Richie above him. 

“God, Eddie,” Richie says. “I’d fuck you so good. Start slow. Wanna drive you crazy.”

“Richie,” Eddie gasps. “Please. More, please, fuck.”

“Like it when you beg me,” Richie says. “You’d be so good for me, so pretty when you beg.”

“Richie,” Eddie whines. “Please, fuck me, please, I need more.”

“Okay,” Richie says, “fuck, okay, I’d start fucking you faster, harder. Think you could put your legs over my shoulders so I could fuck you harder,  _ Jesus,  _ Eddie.”

Eddie fucks himself harder, moaning at the thought of Richie being able to manhandle him, push him around. 

“God, Eddie,” Richie says. “Wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna see your face,” and Eddie’s getting close, so close and he moans Richie’s name in return.

“Fuck, Eddie baby,” Richie pants, “Fuck, I’m close,  _ Eddie. _ ”

“Come in me,” Eddie says, desperate, “wanna feel you, come on, Richie-”

He hears Richie come, hears him moan Eddie’s name, and Eddie comes too with a choked sob, cock untouched. 

“Ugh,” comes Richie’s voice somewhere in the distance. It gets closer as he says, “Threw you on the floor. Hang on.” 

“Good going, dumbfuck,” Eddie says, and he accidentally does not reign in any of the fondness in his voice, so it comes out as an endearment rather than an insult.

“Yeah, yuk it up, it’s your fault,” Richie grumbles. 

They’re quiet for a moment.

“Did you want to talk to me about something?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Richie says, brightening. “I saw someone with a duck on a leash at Whole Foods today.”

“What the fuck? Elaborate!” Eddie says.

The rest of their conversation is mostly about the duck (wearing boots, Richie says, and a little handmade straw hat). Richie is the first to hang up, apologetic, stating that he had ‘prior unavoidable commitments’ (this was delivered in a British accent, for some indiscernible reason). Almost immediately after he hangs up, Bev calls.

“Hi, we’re going out,” she says.

“Wh,” Eddie says. “Okay, hi, I’m doing well, thank you for asking.”

“Bill and Mike are  _ not  _ coming,” Bev continues, ignoring him, “they’re busy doing whatever weird domestic bliss stuff they do. Probably talking about aliens. Please come with me,” she whines, “I don’t want to go by myself, please, Eddie, please, please  _ please- _ ”

“Fuck’s sake, fine,” Eddie says. “Give me half an hour.”

“You’re the best, love you!” Bev says cheerfully. 

She texts him a pin of the location. It’s the same bar they’d gone to a few weeks ago, and he thinks of Hot Comic and his stomach drops. It’s too late to back out now, Bev would pout for days, and he just prays that the guy won’t be there this time.

The world is not going to be kind to Eddie Kaspbrak tonight, though.

He showers quickly, gets dressed, heads to the bar. Bev is easy to spot, hair glowing even in the dim bar lighting. She waves him over.

“What happened with McDreamy?” Eddie asks, sliding into the seat next to her.

“Ben,” she says, raising her eyebrows and taking a drink. “His name’s Ben.”

“Oh?” he says, smiling. “What happened with  _ Ben _ ?”

“He’s sweet,” she says. “Very cute. Made me breakfast.”

“You’re  _ blushing _ ,” Eddie says, delighted. “Was he that good?”

“Yeah,” Bev sighs. “He’s. He’s really nice.”

Eddie’s about to say something else, but he hears the announcer onstage, catches a name this time -  _ Trashmouth Tozier _ , the man with the mic says, and Eddie’s eyes widen as Hot Comic steps onto the stage.

He feels an elbow in his side and looks to see Bev grinning at him.

“Fuck off,” he mutters, blushing furiously.

He looks back up at the stage where Hot Comic - Tozier, he supposes - is beginning his set. His eyes scan the crowd, and when he sees Eddie, he grins and winks at him.

Bev elbows him again, harder, and Eddie hisses, “Shut the  _ fuck  _ up. I’m leaving. I have to leave.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” she says. “I’ve been trying to set you up for  _ months _ and this guy - who you clearly think is cute, by the way, you have absolutely no poker face - has practically fallen into your lap and you’re just gonna  _ leave _ ?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, standing up. Bev yanks him back down by the arm. Tozier notices.

“Oh, God, is it that bad?” he asks on stage. “I haven’t even really started yet!” and the crowd laughs, and Eddie’s ears burn as people turn to look at him.

“You are either going to have to get me really drunk or I’m leaving in the next,” Eddie checks his watch, “20 minutes.”

“ _ Eddie _ ,” Bev sighs, and orders him another drink.

Tozier keeps  _ looking  _ at Eddie, who still feels like he’s on fire. He is getting more and more angry the more attention Tozier pays to him, but he can’t leave now or he’ll risk the man calling him out in front of everyone again.

When Tozier finishes his set, he makes a beeline for Eddie, who is unable to escape this time.

“So? What did you think?” he says, grinning. 

_ Fuck, he is hot,  _ Eddie thinks, but what he says is, “You’re a jackass.”

Tozier laughs delightedly. “Perfect! That’s always what I want to hear!”

“Yeah?” Eddie says. “You’re doing a pretty good job, then.”

“Let me buy you a drink,” Tozier says.

“I would rather swallow glass,” Eddie fires back.

“Why’d you come back, then?” Tozier asks, sliding into the seat next to Eddie. 

“Come back?” Eddie asks, brow furrowed.

“Yeah, you were at one of my shows a couple weeks back,” Tozier says. “Couldn’t forget that pretty face,” and he grins, and Eddie’s not sure what he wants to do with his hands but it’s  _ something _ .

"Must not draw that big of a crowd if you remember one guy," Eddie mutters, taking a drink.

"You remind me of someone," Tozier says, ignoring him in favor of narrowing his eyes in thought. "Have I seen you somewhere before? Outside of the bar?"

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember you if we had," Eddie says, then backtracks when he sees Tozier's eyes light up, "because you dress like a fucking Muppet, get over yourself."

Tozier cackles and, Eddie thinks, he  _ does  _ sound familiar somehow, but he can't exactly place why.

"You sure I can't buy you a drink?" Tozier says, eyes crinkling in a softer smile.

Fuck it.

"Yeah," Eddie says, "I think you owe me one after calling me out in front of the entire bar."

Tozier looks so earnest whenever Eddie finally agrees that Eddie almost feels bad for giving him shit.  _ Almost. _

Bev elbows Eddie and he flinches so hard that he almost drops his drink.

"I'll leave you two alone," she says, presses a kiss to his forehead, and slaps him on the back as she leaves, hollering "Get some, Kaspbrak!" Eddie wishes he could melt into the floor.

They talk for a while, mostly Eddie making fun of Tozier and getting as good as he gives. Tozier is funny, though Eddie hates to admit it, naturally knows  _ just  _ how to toe the line without going over. The more Eddie talks to him, the more he feels emboldened to just look at Tozier. He catches Tozier looking a few times too, eyes lingering a little too long on Eddie's collarbones or his arms, and he suddenly feels brave enough to say something.

"Would you want to-" he says at the same time Eddie blurts "Do you think-," and Tozier laughs.

"Go ahead," he says, knocking back the rest of his drink.

"No," says Eddie, "you go first," because he's suddenly lost steam and he's unsure if he's completely misread the entire situation, Tozier is  _ hot _ , and his whole thing is being funny, and maybe he was just joking when he called Eddie pretty, and-

"Would you want to," Tozier says, pauses. "Would you wanna get out of here?"

Oh. He wasn't joking.

"Yeah," says Eddie, quiet, and then, louder, "yeah, fuck, yes."

Tozier flags the bartender over and pays for his tab and Eddie's despite Eddie's protests.

"Your place or mine?" he asks, grinning.

"Mine," Eddie says quickly, then hates himself for it, hates the feeling of panic that rises in his throat when he thinks about going somewhere unfamiliar with  _ someone  _ unfamiliar, and he's about to correct himself when Tozier speaks.

"Cool," Tozier says, then hands Eddie his phone, adopting a posh British accent. "If you would be so kind, darling,” and Eddie gets the strangest sense of deja vu that he attributes to just being anxious.

Eddie puts his address into Uber and hands Tozier's phone back to him wordlessly.

"You look like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin," Tozier laughs. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to!"

"I want to," Eddie says, determined. "I definitely want to."

Tozier's face flushes slightly and Eddie can't help but feel smug. "Okay, if you're sure, then."

They go outside together to wait for the car. Tozier leans up against the wall, head tilted back and eyes closed, and Eddie eyes the line of his throat with something like hunger. Tozier cracks open one eye and grins when he catches Eddie staring.

"Like what you see?" he says with a lazy smile.

"Yeah, actually, dumbass, that’s why we’re here," Eddie says. He doesn't look away this time, feels comfortable just  _ looking  _ now that he knows for sure that Tozier's into him.

Tozier looks almost taken aback. He looks like he's going to say something, then laughs instead, closing his eyes again. Eddie's close enough to him that he can see the laugh lines around his eyes, the stubble on his chin, and he wants to reach out and touch so  _ badly _ .

Instead, the Uber pulls up to the curb in front of the bar, and Tozier stands up from where he's been leaning on the wall, and Eddie's brain short-circuits as he is reminded of how  _ tall  _ Tozier is. He has to duck to get in the car and Eddie practically salivates.

There is a bizarre energy in the Uber, Eddie thinks, like just before lightning strikes, like when the tide pulls back right before a hurricane. It feels like something Big is about to happen. He knows he is catastrophizing, it's just a hook-up, but it feels like  _ more _ , like he’s drawn the Tower in a tarot deck, like his life is about to change.

Eddie's apartment is, blessedly, not far from the bar. Tozier gives him a hand to help him out of the car and Eddie grips it harder than he necessarily has to. Tozier smirks knowingly.

“Shut up,” Eddie says, brushing past him to get to the door.

“I didn’t say anything!” Tozier says, following him.

Once they are inside, Eddie quickly remembers that he has never actually done this before. He’d married Myra fresh out of college, so he’d never had the seemingly-universal experience of getting to experiment with his sexuality. He looks wide-eyed at Tozier, who seems to note that he’s beginning to panic.

“I was serious, we don’t actually have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Tozier says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I get it, man, I’d back out if it was me, too,” and laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh, it sounds more like a  _ I’m used to this in a way that can’t be healthy  _ kind of laugh and Eddie makes up his mind very quickly.

“Shut up,” he says. “Kiss me,” and then adds, “please,” as an afterthought.

“Okay,” Tozier breathes, and does.

_ He smells really good,  _ Eddie thinks, like the leather of his jacket and like cologne and a little like sweat. Tozier’s hand rests on the small of Eddie’s back, the other cups his cheek, gentle, like he’s nervous about scaring Eddie off. Eddie pulls him closer, kisses him harder, like he’s proving a point, and Tozier sighs, grips him harder in return. 

Eddie tugs impatiently at Tozier’s jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders (big  _ fucking  _ shoulders,  _ fuck _ ) and tosses it somewhere in the floor. He presses kisses hungrily along Tozier’s jawline as he undoes the buttons on Tozier’s gaudily patterned button-down. Tozier moans when Eddie sucks on a spot on his jaw right underneath his ear, so Eddie does it again, and he  _ whimpers _ .

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps, tugging his own shirt over his head as he drops to his knees.

“Ah,” Tozier pants, eyes wide, “what-”

“Let me suck your dick,” Eddie says, looking up at him, eyes pleading. 

“I mean, I’m not gonna say  _ no _ ,” Tozier says, “but you don’t have to-” He breaks off as Eddie mouths at his cock through the fabric of his boxers.

“ _ Jesus _ ,” Tozier gasps as Eddie pulls his cock free over the elastic waistband.

Eddie has not done this before, but he has practiced, and he’s almost certain of the  _ techniques  _ he should use and he’s feeling particularly emboldened by the multiple Old-Fashioneds, so he takes Tozier’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip and looking up at Tozier. He’s doing alright judging from the look on Tozier’s face.

He stays there for a bit, teasing the tip of Tozier’s cock, and Tozier’s head tips back as he tangles his fingers in Eddie’s hair. 

“Fuck, baby,” Tozier groans, and Eddie moans around his cock.

He takes Tozier’s cock deeper in his mouth and Tozier hisses, trying not to buck his hips. Eddie takes his cock as far as he can, feels it hit the back of his throat, and swallows, makes eye contact with Tozier, who moans, fingers gripping Eddie’s hair.

“Fuck, okay, hey, wait,” Tozier gasps, “stop, fuck, hang on.”

“What?” Eddie asks as he pulls off, annoyed.

“Just,” Tozier says, “what do you want to do? Like-”

“I want you to fuck me,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, God,” Tozier says, “okay, that was hot, where’s your, uh, do you have-”

“Condoms?” Eddie offers, bemused. “Lube?”

Tozier nods frantically.

Eddie stands up, retrieves the items in question from their place stuffed behind his couch cushions, and hands them wordlessly to Tozier.

“Where do you wanna-” Tozier starts, then Eddie cuts him off and says “Bedroom. This way.”

He all but runs back to his room, Tozier hot on his heels, and pulls the both of them down onto his bed, kissing Tozier desperately, open-mouthed and messy. Tozier groans and Eddie can feel his cock hard against his thigh.

“Come on,” Eddie pants, “come on, fuck, please.”

“Please what?” Tozier says, grinning.

“Just fuck me,” Eddie says, grasping at Tozier’s shoulders, fingers digging into the soft flesh he finds there.

“ _ Oh _ -kay,” Tozier says, gripping Eddie’s thigh, closing his eyes. “Do you want me to-”

“Want your hands,” Eddie gasps. “Want you to fuck me with your fingers, they’re so fucking  _ big _ -”

“Okay,” Tozier says, pupils blown wide. “Okay, fuck, yeah.”

He pops the cap off the lube, squirting a gratuitous amount onto his ( _ big fucking _ ) fingers as Eddie scrabbles to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants off, flinging them into some distant corner of his bedroom.

“You ready?” Tozier asks, and Eddie nods frantically, hands white-knuckle gripping his sheets.

Tozier starts with one finger, pressing gently into Eddie, who lets out a keening, impatient whine as Tozier begins fucking him slowly.

“Come on, more,  _ please _ ,” Eddie says, “you don’t have to be gentle, I can take it,  _ please _ .”

Tozier indulges him, adding another finger, and Eddie moans at the feeling, rocking his hips in time with Tozier’s fingers. Tozier is still being gentle, taking care to not overwhelm Eddie, who is beginning to feel like a tea kettle about to boil over.

“If you don’t start fucking me like you fucking  _ mean it _ ,” Eddie hisses, “I will throw you and your fucking blue balls out on the street, so fucking help me, I’ll  _ do it _ .”

“Oh, my God,” Tozier says, “alright, holy fuck, dude.” He pulls out of Eddie and grabs a condom from the bedside table where he’d set them down, tearing open the wrapper and rolling it onto his cock. Eddie watches him hungrily, his own cock laying hard against his stomach. Tozier lines up his cock with Eddie’s hole, pushing gently, and makes eye contact with Eddie.

“If you fucking ask if I’m ready one more time, I swear to God,” Eddie says halfheartedly. 

Tozier huffs gently and begins pushing into Eddie, easy, slowly, and Eddie whimpers at the stretch, at the  _ full  _ feeling when Tozier bottoms out.

“Can I start moving?” Tozier asks, strained, and Eddie nods, face burning.

Tozier starts slow, thrusting shallowly into Eddie, who whimpers and hooks a leg around Tozier’s torso to pull him closer, deeper. Tozier’s hips stutter as he gasps quietly, beginning to fuck Eddie faster now. He grabs Eddie by the hips and pulls him closer, hooking Eddie’s legs over his shoulders, and it’s like Eddie sees God. His eyes roll back in his head as his mouth falls open as Tozier hits his prostate head-on.

“Right there, baby? You like that?” Tozier asks, breathless and grinning, and Eddie moans long and drawn-out in response. 

Tozier starts fucking him harder, faster. Eddie’s knees are almost touching his chest as he moans in time with each thrust. Tozier’s gripping Eddie’s hips hard enough that he will probably be bruised in the morning but it’s difficult to care with Tozier fucking him like  _ this _ . Eddie reaches up, pulls Tozier down into a sloppy, panting kiss. Tozier tangles a hand through Eddie’s hair and breaks the kiss to mouth along his jaw, hips slowing as he sucks at the spot where Eddie’s neck meets his collarbones. Eddie whines and rocks his hips against Tozier’s, chasing his building orgasm.

“You close?” Tozier asks. He looks significantly less cocky now, pupils blown out and mouth spit-slick from the kiss.

“Yes,” Eddie pants, “Yes, please, keep fucking me, please,  _ ah _ , come  _ on _ ,  _ please _ -”

“Please what?” Tozier asks, and Eddie moans, “I don’t know, I don’t know, just  _ please _ , God-”

Tozier wraps a hand around Eddie’s cock, strokes once, twice, and Eddie practically sees stars as he comes with a choked-sounding sob. 

“Fuck,” Eddie pants when he comes to, “did you-”

“No,” Tozier says, “I don’t need-”

“Ugh, just- Move, come on,” Eddie says, shifting to sit up as he pushes Tozier on his back. Tozier’s eyes are wide, questioning, as Eddie positions himself between Tozier’s thighs and takes the tip of his cock into his mouth. Eddie, fucked-out and pliant from his orgasm, takes Tozier’s cock as far as he can, feels it in the back of his throat. Tozier whimpers as his hips buck, involuntarily, and Eddie pulls off.

“It’s okay,” he says, “you can fuck my mouth, come on,” and takes Tozier’s cock back into his mouth, swallowing down almost to the root, and Tozier moans outright, thrusting shallowly into Eddie’s throat. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” Tozier pants, and Eddie looks up at him with what he hopes count as bedroom eyes. It works, evidently, because Tozier’s eyes roll back in his head as he comes.

Eddie pulls off his cock with a wet pop and sits up.

“Oh, my God,” Tozier says, eyes glazed over.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Eddie says suddenly, standing upright. He can feel panic building at the back of his throat and thinks  _ no, no, not now, why now? _

“Okay,” Tozier says absentmindedly. “Cool.”

Eddie walks into the bathroom, closes the door, and slumps onto the tile floor. 

“What the fuck,” he whispers to the unyielding ceramic, but it doesn’t have the answer he’s looking for.

He buries his face in his arms, curling around himself in the fetal position on the floor, and begins to sob quietly, the reality of what he’s done finally setting in.

Eddie hasn’t been able to so much as  _ talk  _ to a man in real life since he’s gotten divorced and tonight, he’s just taken home the first stranger with broad shoulders and a scruffy face that he could find, and now what? He’s never going to be able to form a real connection to anyone, he thinks, he’s too broken for that. This is the best he’s going to get, a handsome stranger for one night, and then they move on as he picks up the pieces of himself he’s scattered across the floor. He presses a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs and attempts to even out his breathing. He sniffles minutes later, stands up, and starts the shower running. 

Showers have always been personal to Eddie, a safe haven. He closes his eyes as the water rushes over him, washing everything that’s just happened down the drain. He plugs his ears, listening to the muffled sound of the water hitting the tops of his ears, and breathes steadily,  _ four in, hold for seven, out for eight _ . He stays there for a moment, suspended in steam and the sound of water running down the drain, before he reaches for the soap.

Whenever Eddie towels off and returns to his room, Tozier is gone. He stands in the doorway for a moment, feeling strangely hollow, as he observes the rumpled sheets. He strips the bed, numb, and places his sheets in the washing machine. He stares at the laundry through the glass door, watches it swirl, and thinks  _ I can erase this. I can pretend it never happened. I can clean me, I can clean my sheets, I can clean my house, and it will be like he was never here, and he didn’t leave me like this.  _

Eddie pads over to the kitchen quietly and begins pulling ingredients out of his fridge. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing until he’s ended up with a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup. He stares bewildered at the meal in his hands, sighs, and sits down on the couch, turning the TV on and putting on the first thing he can find on Netflix. He falls asleep with his own arms wrapped around his body, a ghost of the embrace he’d wished for before Tozier had just  _ disappeared. _

\---

Eddie wakes up on his couch with a slight hangover and dirty dishes on the table.

He stands up, grimacing at the stab of pain in his head, and takes the dishes to the kitchen, washing them and putting them away. He checks his phone and, predictably, has a message from Bev.

_ how’d it go last night???!!!??? _

Eddie recalls the previous night with the wary regard resolved for Bad Nights, a kind of distant embarrassment as well as tired resignation. 

_ We had sex,  _ he decides on, and sends it. His phone lights up 30 seconds later with Bev’s contact image.

“Eddie!” she squeals, and Eddie smiles despite himself, a tired thing that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hi, Bev,” he says.

“You don’t sound as excited as I thought you’d be,” Bev says, suddenly wary. “I’m trying to match your energy here. Where are we?”

“Like,” Eddie sighs, “a 3? Maybe a 4.”

“Whoa,” Bev says. “What happened? Was it that bad?”

“No, it was really good,” Eddie says, switching on his electric kettle and pulling a mug out of his cupboard. 

“Then why are we at a 3?” Bev asks gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, honey, but I wanna help you if I can.”

“It just-” Eddie says, breaking off, frustrated. “I don’t know what happened! It was really good and I was fine, and then it was over and I started freaking the fuck out and cried in my bathroom floor.” 

“Oh, Eddie,” Bev says, and he tries to ignore the shame that’s beginning to burn inside him. 

“Yeah,” he says, suddenly choked-up. “So that’s what happened. It was just me, fucking it up.”

“Okay, I’m coming over,” Bev says.

“You don’t have to do that,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, well I’m gonna, so there,” Bev says, and blows a raspberry. Eddie loves her so much he’s not sure what to do with all of it.

“Okay, see you,” he says.

“Yeah, you will!” Bev says, and hangs up.

The kettle switches off and Eddie pours the boiling water into a mug with a chamomile tea bag. He leaves, goes to his room, puts on an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of old sweatpants. 

Bev arrives at his door probably faster than she should have, which means she was speeding again despite the fact that she’s already been pulled over three times making the drive from her house to Eddie’s. She wraps him in a bear hug as soon as he opens the door.

“Oh God, you’re in your sad sweatpants, okay, I brought gummies and we’re watching a documentary Ben showed me about Frank Lloyd Wright,” she says. “And we are not going to talk about anything unless you want to.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, breezing past him to flop onto the couch. 

They get about halfway through the documentary before Eddie speaks.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he says, eyes on the screen.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Bev says. “I think you just dove in head-first when maybe you should have tried just your toes to start.”

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to be comfortable with this,” Eddie says. “Maybe I’m supposed to be alone.”

“I don’t think you are,” Bev says, turning to look at him. “I think you have a lot of fucked-up shit from your mom and Myra to undo, and I think you’re incredibly brave, and I think you’re undoing it one step at a time, that’s all. You’re the strongest person I know, Eddie Kaspbrak, and this one bad night does not define your worth.”

Eddie is stunned into silence. 

“You’ve already done so much to help yourself and work towards building a better life for  _ you _ ,” Bev continues. “You have already decided to start living more authentically. That can be enough for now.”

“How do you just  _ say  _ shit like that?” Eddie asks, eyes welling with tears. 

“I’m very smart and my dick is huge,” Bev replies seriously. Eddie laughs as tears stream down his cheeks. She pulls his head into her lap, threading her fingers through his hair. He sniffles, curling up against her side like a cat.

Outside, it starts to rain. Steam from the mug of chamomile tea on Eddie’s coffee table curls gently in the air. The room is cast in a gray light, but Bev’s hair still seems to glow, casting a halo of light that frames her face. The TV glows dimly as well, casting shadows around Eddie’s apartment that don’t feel threatening, but feel like home. He thinks privately that this could be enough, just this, having friends to lean on and love him. He doesn’t have to have anyone else to be complete. This is enough, and  _ he  _ is enough, and he closes his eyes as Bev runs her fingers over his scalp.

\---

Richie hasn’t texted Eddie in a while, which is mildly concerning, but Eddie hasn’t really been in a mood to talk to anyone anyways. Bill and Mike had each texted him separately to ask if he was doing okay and offering a shoulder to lean on if he wasn’t. Eddie is so thankful for the family he’s found sometimes that it makes him feel supercharged, like if someone touched him it would shock them.

He fires off a quick text to Richie anyways.

_ Are you alive? I haven’t gotten a text in a while waxing poetic about a dog you saw on a walk in days. _

He sets his phone down, intending to do something else, and it pings with a message almost instantly.

_ yeah haha i’ve just had a busy couple of days, you know how it is _

Eddie frowns at the text bubble. Richie sounds off somehow.

_ Yeah,  _ he texts back.  _ Me too.  _ He sees the typing bubble pop up, then disappear, and reappear again. 

_ Spit it out, Richie _ .

_ would you want to meet up sometime _

Eddie freezes like a deer in headlights, staring at the innocuous message bubble glowing on his screen. He’s evidently quiet for too long.

_ it’s okay forget i said anything _

Then.

_ i’ve obviously been crossing boundaries you’re not okay with it’s my fault it was really unprofessional and i’m sorry _

Eddie takes a deep breath, stares at the ceiling. Maybe it’s okay to try again. Start slow. Don’t rush it this time.

_ No, that sounds good. When would you want to meet? _

_ this weekend? _

_ Sounds good,  _ Eddie types.  _ Where? _

_ there’s this bar not far from where i live. we could meet there? _

_ Send me a pin of the location? _

Richie does as he’s told. Eddie stares at the pin with a growing sense of dread.

The bar he’s sent is where Eddie met Tozier. 

Eddie tries to even out his breathing,  _ 4-7-8 _ , and thinks, surely, Tozier won’t be there if they go on a Saturday. The other two times Eddie’s seen him have been on a Friday night,  _ surely  _ he won’t be performing two nights in a row.

_ That’s actually not far from where I live either,  _ Eddie types.  _ Works for me. _

Richie sends back a thumbs-up emoji.

\---

Eddie changes his mind every time he thinks about meeting Richie. He calls Mike while he scrubs the baseboards of his apartment.

“Hey, Eddie, you need something?” Mike asks, voice warm.

“I need you to help me not pussy out,” Eddie says.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mike says, “but sure! Don’t pussy out!”

“No, let me explain,” Eddie says, phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear. 

He tells Mike everything. The first time he talked to Richie, the first time he saw Tozier perform, when Richie gave him his personal phone number, the fact that he  _ slept with Tozier,  _ the subsequent panic attack, and the fact that he’s meeting Richie in person.

Mike is silent for a long time.

“Please say something,” Eddie says. “I’m going to go fucking insane.”

“It sounds like you’re already there, buddy,” says Mike.

“I will end you, Hanlon,” says Eddie. “Give me actual advice or I’m asking Bill.”

“Oh, no,” Mike says quickly. “Bad idea. Okay, you like this guy, right?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, pausing his vigilant scrubbing.

“So meet up with him!” Mike says. “You already know him, you’ve done the hard part! It’s the same thing, but now you get to see his face!”

“Uh huh,” says Eddie. 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Mike asks.

“He stands me up and never talks to me again and then he tells everybody he ever meets that I’m a freak who calls phone sex hotlines,” Eddie answers immediately.

“Wh,” says Mike.

“But he wouldn’t do that right? He knows me. We talk. We’re friends. He wouldn’t do that! Right? Right? Tell me he wouldn’t do that,” Eddie says.

“I’m going to ask you something,” Mike says gently, “and I genuinely don’t mean to be offensive or discredit the problems you’re dealing with right now.”

“ _ What _ ,” Eddie snaps.

“Have you considered getting a therapist?” Mike asks.

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it but I asked your advice for a problem I’m having  _ right now,  _ Michael, so if you’re not going to help me, I am going to deal with this shit on my own, and then get Beverly to get me stupid high off of her stupid edibles later,” Eddie says.

“I think you should do it,” Mike says, placating. 

“Great, thanks,” Eddie says. “Now you have to hold me to it. I’m going to probably text you one hundred times this weekend saying that I’m going to back out. Don’t let me.”

“Whatever you want, Eddie,” Mike says.

“God, you sound like a mom. Love you,” Eddie says briskly.

“Love you too, man,” Mike says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Eddie spends most of his free time leading up to the weekend pacing his apartment. Friday night, Richie texts him and Eddie almost jumps out of his skin.

_ are we still on for tomorrow night :^) _

_ Yeah,  _ Eddie sends back, then worried it sounds harsh, adds  _ :) _ .

_ great looking forward to it _ , Richie replies.

Eddie covers his face with his hands to muffle his scream.

“Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he asks to his apartment walls. “This is worse than getting divorced. Why is this worse than getting divorced.”

The walls do not answer, but they seem sympathetic.

Eddie deliberates on what to wear for hours. He considers wearing the same shirt he wore when he met Tozier (it seemed to get a good reaction, he thinks, but still feels mildly nauseous thinking about that night), but eventually decides on a button-up, navy blue with small white polka dots that Bev had picked out for him after he got divorced.

True to his word, he texts Mike before he leaves, nervously eyeing the clock.

_ What if I just tell him I’m sick and can’t make it? _

_ I will physically pick you up and carry you into the bar myself! :),  _ comes Mike’s reply, almost instantly. 

Eddie sighs. 

_ Fine. I’ll go,  _ he replies.

_ You better! Knock ‘em dead, tiger!,  _ Mike replies, followed by a gif of Tigger bouncing rapidly around a room.

_ Thanks, Mikey,  _ Eddie texts back, then takes a deep breath and leaves the apartment.

\---

When Eddie arrives at the bar, he notes that the chalkboard sign outside is absent of advertisements for performances that night, which means Tozier isn’t going to be there. He feels a weight lift off of his shoulders, then settle back down as he remembers what he’s doing.

_ I’m here,  _ Eddie texts from outside the door.  _ Where are you? _

_ @ the bar,  _ Richie replies.  _ i’m wearing a pink shirt covered in toucans it will b hard to miss me :^) _

Eddie steels himself and walks into the bar.

It’s crowded tonight. People press against him almost as soon as he steps through the threshold, which doesn’t exactly do wonders for his anxiety. He can’t see Richie from the small section of bar visible through the crowd right now, so he shoulders through, muttering apologies to the people around him.

Eddie pushes his way up to the bar, then texts Richie again. 

_ It’s so fucking crowded, I can’t see you. _

_ where u at bby i’ll come 2 u _

Eddie glances at his surroundings.  _ I’m near the corner closest to the door. I’m wearing a dark blue shirt, sleeves are rolled up to my elbows. _

_ gotcha see u in a second ;^) _

Eddie is so tightly wound that he’s pretty sure even the slightest amount of interaction right now is going to set him off like a Roman candle. His leg bounces, practically drilling a hole into the floor underneath the bar stool as he waits for Richie.

“Oh, fuck,” comes a voice behind Eddie. He turns around.

Fucking  _ Tozier  _ is standing in front of him, and Eddie almost tells him to fuck off before he notices what he’s wearing.

Tozier is dressed in a peach-pink shirt covered with a pattern of toucans and leaves.

“Are you fucking  _ kidding  _ me,” Eddie says.

Tozier looks like he’s about to melt into the floor. His face has changed colors rapidly from pale white to a bright, fire-engine red that seems to be making its way slowly into gray-green.

“It’s you,” he whispers, face twisting into an expression somewhere between apologetic and just plain miserable.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, dumbfounded. 

They stare at each other in silence for a few moments, a standoff in all of its awkward glory, before Eddie speaks.

“Why did you leave,” he says, as softly as he can over the music and the noise of the crowd.

“What,” Tozier-  _ Richie _ , says.

“You left,” Eddie says, tears forming in his eyes. “I went to take a shower and you were gone, you just left, and I fucking, I, what the  _ fuck _ , Richie, what the  _ fuck _ -”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to stay!” Richie says, panicked. “Fuck, I didn’t even know it was  _ you _ , Eddie! You think I wouldn’t have stayed if I knew it was you?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, staring at the floor and desperately willing himself not to cry here, not in this bar, not in front of fucking  _ Richie _ . “I don’t know shit at this point, Richie!”

Richie shifts on his feet, hands jammed into his pockets. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” and he looks like he would rather be anywhere else in the world.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and thinks  _ for once, I underestimated, this is the worst thing that could have happened tonight. _

Richie clears his throat. “I don’t think this is a great place to have this conversation,” he says, not meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Why don’t we go somewhere else and talk about it?”

“I don’t really feel like talking to you, Richie,” Eddie says. “You just fucking left. It’s hard to believe that you actually care.” He’s being unfair, he knows it, but he’s still running the events of that night through his mind on a loop, focusing on the moment he walked back into his room and noticed that there was no one in the bed.

“No, I just-” Richie starts, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to talk about it with you. Please.”

Eddie closes his eyes, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and tries to ignore the hot current of shame curling in his gut. “Fine. We’re going to my apartment,” and thinks, frantically,  _ home field advantage, like the Revolutionary War _ .

“Okay,” Richie says meekly. Eddie stands up, brushing past him, and walks out the door. 

Richie follows after him, keeping his distance from Eddie. Everything about this is giving Eddie a violent sense of deja vu. He grits his teeth, digging his fingernails into his palms. There’s the same kind of intense feeling, like something is building, but this time it doesn’t feel like the start of something big. It feels like an ending, like a goodbye, like Eddie’s life is slipping through his fingers. 

They don’t speak while they wait for the Uber. When it arrives, they wordlessly sit on opposite sides of the car. Richie drums his fingers incessantly against his knee, and Eddie takes a sad kind of satisfaction in knowing that Richie  _ does  _ care, at least enough to be nervous. Their driver keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, but has the good sense not to speak. Eddie feels like he’s simmering, like it’s just seconds before he boils over because no one is watching him.

They’re dropped off unceremoniously in front of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie doesn’t look at Richie, just heads straight for his apartment, and Richie follows him like a kicked puppy. 

Eddie unlocks the door, waits for Richie to come in, then crosses his arms over his chest, stone-faced.

“I swear I didn’t know it was you,” Richie says, eyes on the floor.

“You never said you were a comedian,” Eddie says.

“I’m not, really, I’m friends with the owner of the bar, I just have a slot on Fridays,” Richie says, panicked.

“You do that a lot?” Eddie asks. “Pick up random guys from the bar, fuck them, and then leave without a goddamn word?”

“I,” Richie says, hands jammed into his pockets again, “I, no one usually-”

“Yes or no,” Eddie says.

“No one usually wants me to stay,” Richie says quietly, and Eddie softens.

“So you didn’t even fucking ask me if I wanted you to?” Eddie asks.

Richie looks like he’s about to run out the door.

“I cannot  _ fucking  _ believe I didn’t even ask for your name,” Eddie says, losing steam. “I am so stupid. I can’t believe I just fucking  _ did  _ that, I didn’t even ask for your name, I didn’t know who you were-”

“Eddie,” Richie says, and Eddie cuts him off.

“No, I shouldn’t be mad at you,” he says, slumping onto the couch, eyes brimming with tears again. “It’s my fault, you didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know who  _ you  _ were, for all I know you could’ve been an axe murderer and I just took you to my apartment.  _ I  _ could have been an axe murderer. Fuck.”

“God,” Richie says. He looks sick. “I can’t believe it was  _ you _ . I didn’t even ask for your name, I just left.”

“Yeah, you did,” Eddie says, tipping his head back and staring at the ceiling.

Richie sits gingerly at the other end of the sofa, curling up into a ball smaller than Eddie thought him capable of.

“How do I fix this?” he asks. He sounds tired, and Eddie turns to look at him.

Richie’s sitting with his legs drawn up to his chest, chin resting on top of his knees. His eyes have gone hazy, staring off into the distance, and he’s pushed his glasses to the top of his head. He sniffles, burying his face into the space between his knees and chest. 

“I want to make it better,” he says, voice muffled. “I don’t wanna lose you, Eddie.”

Eddie thinks he might be too emotionally drained to really cry at this point. They’re both quiet for a few moments before Eddie speaks.

“Can we just start over?” he asks, directing his question to the ceiling.

Richie raises his head, eyes bloodshot.

“Or can we at least go back to like, a checkpoint,” Eddie says, and huffs a tired laugh. “Before we met the  _ actual  _ first time.”

“A checkpoint,” Richie repeats, dumbfounded, and Eddie starts laughing harder, exhausted emotionally and physically, and Richie starts laughing too, that dumb fucking goofy laugh that Eddie loved to chase after, which makes Eddie laugh even  _ more _ , until they’re both laughing too hard to breathe.

“It’s not even that fucking funny, asshole,” Eddie wheezes, and it just makes the both of them laugh harder, delirious.

“We suck at this,” Richie gasps.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says. “Why did you think I called a fucking phone sex hotline in the first place, dude?”

“Okay, we’re starting over,” Richie says, scooting closer to Eddie and holding his hand out. “Hi, it’s Richie, nice to finally meet you.”

“You have been balls deep inside me,” says Eddie, cackling, and Richie laughs.  _ One of his eyes closes more than the other when he laughs,  _ Eddie thinks, suddenly, and he can feel his cheeks tinge pink.

“I thought you said we were starting over at, at a fucking checkpoint,” Richie says in between giggles, hand still extended.

“My bad,” Eddie laughs, and takes Richie’s hand. “Hello. It’s great to finally see you in person, you’re just as hot as you said you’d be over the phone, et cetera, and so forth.”

“You think I’m hot?” Richie asks, still hand in hand with Eddie.

“Are you  _ serious _ ?” Eddie yells.

“Well,” Richie says helplessly. 

“You have,” Eddie says, gesturing helplessly with the hand that’s not clutching Richie’s, “I mean, you’re  _ big _ , Richie!”

“I,” Richie says, “yeah?”

Eddie makes a strangled noise that could possibly be described as a scream. Richie looks at Eddie like he’s suddenly sprouted a third eye.

“It’s hot,” Eddie says. “Shoulders.”

“Okay,” Richie says, bewildered.

“What were we talking about,” Eddie says, finally dropping Eddie’s hand.

“I don’t,” Richie says. “I don’t remember?”

“You know you were the first guy I ever actually had sex with?” Eddie asks in a conspiratorial whisper. Richie’s face drops.

“No,” he says.

“Yes,” Eddie says back.

“Oh my God,” Richie says.

“This conversation has gone off the rails,” Eddie says, standing up. “You want some tea?”

“Why not?” Richie asks. “What the fuck are we doing?”

“Drinking tea,” Eddie says, giggling, exhausted, and takes two bags of mint tea out of the cupboard. 

It’s funny, because he’d gone into this thinking  _ surely, surely I have imagined the worst possible outcome of tonight, but I didn’t, and the worst possible thing did happen. But it’s fine. I’m alive, I can fix it, the worst thing happened and I am going to make it better.  _ It seems  _ too  _ easy.

Richie is still on the couch, looking a bit shell shocked. “This might be the weirdest night of my entire life.”

Eddie hums in agreement. Richie twists around to look at Eddie over the back of the couch. “You’re actually making tea?”

“I don’t know what the protocol is for this situation, exactly,” Eddie says, pouring water into the two mugs.

“That’s fair,” Richie says.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Eddie says, heading back into the living room and placing the mugs carefully on coasters. “If you are okay with it.”

“Shoot, cowboy,” Richie says in a voice that is vaguely similar to Val Kilmer’s Doc Holliday.

“We are going to sit here,” Eddie says. “And we are going to talk like normal people, and not like two people who met through a phone sex hotline.”

“Normal is just a setting on the washing machine, Eddie baby,” Richie says seriously, and Eddie kicks him in the shin.

“I’ll start,” Eddie says. “My name is Eddie Kaspbrak. I work in finance as a risk analyst. I was married to a woman for five years before I realized I was gay. I have made three friends my entire life. I thought I was allergic to  _ everything  _ for years. I like classic cars and running.”

“Okay,” Richie says. “My name’s Richie Tozier, but you probably figured that out already. I work at a phone sex hotline and part-time as a barista, actually, and do comedy for funsies on the weekend. I’ve gotten the shit beaten out of me more times than I can count. My stage name is Trashmouth Tozier and I fucking hate it but it’s what everyone calls me anyways and I also have three friends so we’re basically twins.”

“We are not basically twins, did you listen to anything I just said? Did you listen to anything  _ you  _ just said?” Eddie asks.

“Three friends,” Richie supplies helpfully, and Eddie throws a pillow at him as he cackles.

“There,” Eddie says. “Now we know things about each other.”

“Yes,” Richie says sagely. “Three friends.”

“Will you fucking  _ drop that _ ,” Eddie says. “That was not the important part of that whole spiel!”

“What was?” Richie asks innocently.

“I am going to hide nails in your breakfast cereal,” Eddie says.

“Crunchy,” Richie replies.

“I cannot fucking believe that I haven’t kicked you out of my apartment by now,” Eddie says, mug in hands.

“Ha, you like me, loser,” Richie says, sipping at his tea and wincing.

“I guess so,” Eddie sighs. 

“This is  _ so weird _ ,” Richie reiterates. He immediately tries to drink out of his mug again.

“It’s still hot,” Eddie says, deadpan. “It’s been two seconds.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Richie says with a cheeky grin, and Eddie has to take a moment to breathe so he doesn’t throttle him.

They end up talking for far longer than Eddie thought they would. Richie is even more intense in person, able to accentuate his stories and Voices with wide, sweeping gestures, and he’s insanely charming, which Eddie already knew but the point is really driven in when he can see Richie in person. It’s easy, comfortable to talk now, they’ve done it all at this point so it seems natural to take it slow, conversations weaving through the air with the steam from their mugs.

“Oh my God, it’s 4:00 A.M,” Richie says, interrupting himself. 

“Huh,” Eddie offers, only mildly surprised.

“I will leave your apartment,” Richie says, standing up and cringing as his knees pop. “But first. I have to ask you the million dollar question.” 

“Hm?” Eddie hums.

“Would you want to do lunch sometime, Eddie Kaspbrak?” Richie asks, rolling the ‘r’.

“Are you asking me on a date, Richie Tozier?” Eddie asks, smiling tiredly.

“If you want it to be,” Richie says, face going red.

“Then it’s a date,” Eddie says, picking up the empty mugs and taking them to the kitchen sink.

“Okay,” Richie says with a dopey grin.

“Okay,” Eddie says, smiling unwittingly.

“Okay,” Richie says again.

“Go  _ home _ , Richie!” Eddie laughs.

“Right! Sorry! I’ll see you! On the. On the date!” Richie says, almost tripping over himself as he leaves the apartment.

Eddie pauses in the middle of washing the mugs.

“What just happened?” he whispers to the apartment, but as usual, it gives no answer.

It seems, as always, supportive anyways.

\---

Eddie feels like hell the next day when he wakes up around noon. He slaps at his bedside table in search of his phone and puts in his passcode, eyes bleary.

He calls Mike first.

“Oh, my God, I was so worried about you,” Mike says, relieved.

“Not dead,” Eddie says. “I got carried away. I think my phone might have died at some point.”

“Long night, then?” Mike asks, teasing. 

“I mean,” Eddie says, head resting against the wall behind his bed. “Yeah? It’s a long story. Actually, it’s a pretty short story, now that I think about it. Richie and Tozier are the same person.”

Mike is quiet for a worryingly long time.

“That,” he says slowly, “makes a surprising amount of sense.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize his voice,” Eddie says, stretching. 

“Yeah, haven’t you been talking to him on the phone for weeks?” Mike asks.

“Yyyyes,” Eddie says. 

“Eddie,” Mike says admonishingly.

“Okay, in my defense, there’s a difference between hearing someone’s voice over the phone and hearing it in real life,” Eddie says. “And I didn’t know his fucking last name!”

“Alright, sure,” Mike says, then distantly, “Hey, lover, Eddie’s not dead.”

“Cool,” says Bill somewhere in the background. “Tell him hi and also fuck you for making my husband worry.”

“Bill says hi,” Mike says, as if Eddie couldn’t hear their entire conversation.

“Jackass,” says Eddie. “Can you hit him for me?”

“He’s my boyfriend!” says Mike, offended, then Eddie hears a distant  _ thwap.  _

“OW?” Bill yells.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “Anyways, he apologized, we both cried, I made him tea, now we’re meeting for lunch later this week. And it’s a date. We’re dating now, I think.”

“Sounds like an interesting night,” Mike says.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea,” says Eddie.

“No, it’s just,” Mike says, “and I don’t mean this to be rude, but this whole fucking thing is  _ really _ weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie says. He rolls out of bed and winces at the deep, whole-body ache that screams  _ tired, go back to bed _ . 

“Have you talked to Bev about this?” Mike asks.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says. “Fuck, I need to call her. Talk to you later, Mikey. Love you.”

“Love you too, Eddie. Good luck,” Mike says warmly.

Eddie hangs up the call, takes a deep breath, and calls Bev.

“Hello?” she yells. “You didn’t text me back  _ all night _ !”

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie says, immediately apologetic. “Time got away from me. Last night was weird.”

“I can probably forgive you -  _ probably _ ,” Bev says. “Weird how?”

“So you remember that guy that I slept with that freaked me out so bad because he left right after we had sex?” Eddie asks.

Bev puts two and two together quickly.

“No,” she gasps.

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

“Please tell me you kicked his ass,” Bev says.

“Actually,” says Eddie. 

“Eddie Kaspbrak tell me you did not fuck him again.”

“I did  _ not _ ,” Eddie says. “But we are going on a date this week. We’re getting lunch.”

“That’s  _ worse _ !” Bev shrieks.

“He was sorry!” Eddie says. “He cried!”

“Who gives a shit if he cried!” Bev says. “Eddie!”

“It was a misunderstanding!” Eddie says. “I think you would like him if you met him!”

“ _ Un _ believable,” Bev says.

“Are you actually mad at me?” Eddie asks tentatively.

“Oh, honey, no,” Bev says, tone softening. “I just want you to take care of yourself, is all. I don’t want you to settle for someone because you think you can’t do better.”

“I’m not  _ settling _ ,” Eddie says. “I like him. He’s neat.”

“Neat,” repeats Bev, deadpan.

“I just woke up!” Eddie says, defensive.

Bev threatens Eddie into making plans to hang out later that week, and they say goodbye shortly after (Eddie is incredibly grateful, he thinks she can sense his exhaustion over the phone). Eddie breathes in the silence in his apartment and pads into the kitchen. His phone buzzes again and he groans out loud before checking it.

_ just wanted to make sure we were still on for lunch?  _

Just Richie. Eddie texts back  _ Yep :^)  _ and turns his phone on Do Not Disturb for a bit.

Eddie doesn’t much enjoy mornings usually, but since it’s technically not  _ morning  _ any more, he figures he’s allowed to be in a good mood. He hums to himself, some song that was popular when he was a kid, and begins making a smoothie for his late ( _ very  _ late) breakfast. 

\---

Time seems to move slower than it usually does, the way it used to move in the weeks before Christmas as a kid, like honey rolling down a glass. Eddie finds himself impatient throughout the week, anticipating his date (he has a  _ date,  _ he thinks, with someone he’s actually interested in, and the thought makes him giddy). 

Richie has agreed to meet him at a restaurant that Eddie frequents often during his lunch breaks at the office. Eddie begs Bev for help on what to wear and she’s only too happy to provide, digging through his closet and piecing together not one, but  _ several  _ outfits for him to choose from. 

On the day, he shows up early and, to his surprise, Richie’s already there. He waves enthusiastically at Eddie, who can’t help the fond smile on his face. He slides into the seat across from Richie.

“You look hot,” Richie says.

“Hi, Eddie, how are you Eddie,” Eddie deadpans. “Oh I’m doing well, Richie, thank you for asking-”

“I think we are well past the small talk stage,” Richie says cheerfully. 

“Nope,” Eddie says. “Checkpoint. Try again.”

Richie groans. “ _ Fine.  _ How are you, Eddie?”

“I’m doing well, thank you for asking,” Eddie says smugly. “How are you?”

“Oh, great,” Richie says, “I’m about to have to kick my date’s ass in the middle of a restaurant, but other than that, can’t complain.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and is about to respond when, blessedly, the waiter appears to take their orders.

The date is nice (as nice as it can be with the two of them. Eddie makes sure to tip their poor waiter extra). He finds that it’s easier to talk to Richie now that the air between them has been cleared. They’ve been through enough together that it’s like they’re inseparable, connected somehow (Eddie’s mind says  _ trauma bonding  _ and he says  _ zip it, no it is fucking not _ ). 

They wander the city later, walking aimlessly while they talk. Richie buys them popsicles from a cart set up on the corner of the street. Eddie finds himself just looking at Richie while he talks, tracing his jawline with his eyes. Richie catches his gaze and smiles, eyes crinkling. Eddie blushes and looks away. Richie, suave gentleman that he is, takes this opportunity to catch Eddie around the ankle with his foot and try to trip him.

“Really,” Eddie says, incensed. Richie cackles and Eddie shoulder-checks him.

“Et tu, Eduardo?” Richie says dramatically, clutching his shoulder.

“You  _ started it! _ ” Eddie shrieks.

“I’m wounded,” Richie says, ignoring him in favor of the dramatics of it all.

“You are going to get popsicle on your shirt, dumbass,” Eddie says.

“I’m sure it will be  _ fine _ ,” Richie says. “Hey, there’s actually a record shop around here that’s really neat. If you’d want to go?”

“Why not,” Eddie says. 

They make their way into the record shop. Album covers line the walls and old records hang suspended from the ceiling. Eddie taps one lightly as he passes, watches it spin. He sifts through the shelves of records in the middle of the store alongside Richie, shoulder-to-shoulder. Richie picks up an album by The Doors and holds it up for Eddie’s consideration.

“Really?” Eddie asks.

“Yep, and now I’m definitely buying it,” Richie says, tucking the record under his arm.

He picks up a B-52s album as well and picks one for Eddie, a Bon Jovi album that he’d remembered listening to in the early hours of morning when his dad had driven him to kindergarten. Eddie is strangely touched despite the fact that he does not even own a record player.

Richie walks him back to his apartment and stands awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’ll see you,” Eddie says, holding the record.

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Um.”

“Do you need something?” Eddie asks, teasing.

“Can I kiss you?” Richie asks, face red.

Instead of responding, Eddie leans forward and gently presses his lips to Richie’s. Richie sighs and kisses him back, soft.

“Today was nice,” Eddie says, smiling. “Thanks, Richie.”

“Yeah,” Richie says, dazed. “I. Yeah, you’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you around,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, for sure,” Richie says quickly. “Um. Next time?”

“Next time,” Eddie says gently. “Bye, Rich.”

“Okay, bye,” Richie says, smiling, and Eddie shuts the door as he retreats.

Eddie slumps to the floor, back against the door, and just  _ laughs _ . 

He’s never had this. He’s never been on a date that was anything but oddly formal, a routine he felt like he had to engage in to keep his life on track, and he feels so alive now that he could run a marathon.

He’s hit with a sudden wave of realization that wipes the smile from his face.

Oh, fuck, he’s in love with Richie.

“It’s been one date,” he says out loud. “One.”

_ But the thing is,  _ he thinks,  _ we’ve been talking for longer than that, and I think you’ve been a little in love with him from the beginning. _

“I actually have to buy a record player now,” he says, head in hands.

\---

They do take it slow, at first.

Richie takes him out at least once a week, then Eddie starts inviting Richie over to his apartment more frequently just to  _ be  _ with him. It begins to feel like he’s known Richie for far longer than he has, like Richie is a missing piece, like he should have been there from the beginning.

Eddie likes spending time with Richie, he really does, but sometimes if he looks at Richie for too long he has to go splash cold water on his face and tell himself to get a grip.  _ We are taking it slow _ , he lectures himself, ignoring the sheer  _ want  _ that he feels whenever Richie stretches, shoulders flexing.

That doesn’t last very long.

Richie is over at his apartment one evening in a sweatshirt and boxers, sitting on the couch and watching an hour of drive-in movie ads while he types on his laptop.

Eddie looks at him and goes insane.

Before he really thinks about what he’s doing, he’s walking over to Richie and climbs in his lap, straddling him. 

“Hi, Eddie,” Richie says freezing. “What. What are you doing?”

“I fucking,” Eddie says helplessly, “thighs?”

“Okay,” Richie says, sounding just as confused.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah,” Richie says, “fuck, of course. Are  _ you  _ okay?”

“Uh huh,” says Eddie.

“Great,” Richie says. “Now that we’ve established that,” and pulls Eddie closer.

Eddie is consumed by the need to  _ touch _ , to  _ grab _ , and he kisses Richie desperately. Richie moans into the kiss and grips Eddie’s hips, grinding against him, and Eddie whimpers, nails digging into Richie’s shoulders, feeling like he needs to be  _ closer _ .

“Richie,” he gasps, grinding his hips against Richie’s hardening cock. Richie moans in response and Eddie leans down and  _ bites  _ at Richie’s neck. Richie gasps, hips bucking against Eddie’s, and Eddie quickly dismounts to kneel between Richie’s legs.

“Eddie,” Richie moans as Eddie pulls his cock from his boxers and takes it into his mouth. He feels deranged, like he has to be touching Richie as much as possible, and takes as much of his cock as he can into his mouth, nails digging into Richie’s thighs. Richie gasps, head tilted back, and tangles his fingers in Eddie’s hair, pulling gently. 

“I need,” Eddie gasps, pulling off. “I, fuck, I just need,” and takes Richie’s cock back into his mouth.

“What,  _ ah _ ,” Richie pants, “what do you want me to do?”

“Just,” Eddie says, “I just need to touch you.”

“Come back,” Richie says, “come here,” and Eddie clambers back up into his lap, pressing as close to Richie as humanly possible. Richie fumbles with the button on Eddie’s pants, scrambling to free his cock from his briefs, and Eddie wraps his hand around Richie’s cock, burying his face in Richie’s shoulder.

“God, Eddie,” Richie pants.

“You make me fucking insane,” Eddie says, voice muffled by Richie’s shoulder, “Jesus Christ, Richie, where do you get off looking  _ like that _ , fuck.”

Richie laughs, breathless, as wraps his ( _ big fucking _ ) hand around both of their cocks and using his other hand to hold Eddie’s against his chest. Eddie whimpers from his position in Richie’s lap, practically wrapped around him at this point as he squirms.

“Eddie, baby,” Richie says, “look at me, come on, I lo- I need you to look at me.”

“Richie,” Eddie says helplessly, and does as he’s told, looking at Richie.

Richie is fucking  _ perfect _ , Eddie thinks, his hair is matted to his forehead and he looks as desperate as Eddie feels, eyes wide and searching. Eddie leans in, kisses him again, fingers woven into the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck, and whines as Richie picks up the pace, running his thumb over the head of Eddie’s cock.

“I’m close,” Eddie gasps, “fuck, Richie!”

“I know, baby,” Richie says, “I know, me too, come on, it’s alright,” and Eddie buries his face in Richie’s shoulder again as he comes with a muffled whimper.

“ _ Eddie _ ,” Richie moans, and Eddie feels him come, hips jerking weakly. 

They stay like that for a moment. Eddie is pressed as tightly as he possibly can be against Richie. He kisses gently along Richie’s jawline and down along his collarbones, nuzzling underneath his neck, until he starts feeling too gross to stay there.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he mutters to Richie’s neck.

“Okay,” Richie says, kisses him gently on the cheek. 

Eddie walks to his bathroom, closes the door, and takes a deep breath.

He’s fine this time.

He laughs deliriously at this realization, he’s fine, he’s going to take a shower and he loves Richie and he’s  _ fine _ , he’s not going to be hurt this time. He loves Richie and it’s okay and he will see him again, regardless of whether he’s still there whenever Eddie gets out of the shower or not.

He steps into the shower and relaxes under the running stream of water, closing his eyes and listening to it run down his body. 

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels Richie’s arms wrap around him.

“ _ Je _ sus!” he shrieks.

“Sorry,” Richie says, and Eddie gets the suspicion that he’s not actually all that sorry. Eddie turns around to face Richie and pulls him closer, burying his face in Richie’s chest.

“You’re clingy today,” Richie says to the top of Eddie’s head, and Eddie hums happily.

“I just like you,” he says. Richie laughs.

“I like you too,” he says, warm.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, squirting shampoo into his hand. “Get your hair wet.”

Richie obliges, ducking under the stream of water, and Eddie runs his hands through Richie’s hair.

“This might be the gayest thing I’ve ever done,” Richie says.

“Shh,” says Eddie, scrubbing at Richie’s scalp. Richie quiets, closing his eyes. 

Eddie works his fingers through Richie’s hair and hits a tangle, pulling his hair gently, and Richie’s eyes go wide as he turns red. Eddie raises an eyebrow and makes a mental note to revisit this later. 

Eddie nudges Richie under the stream of water to rinse as he gathers body wash in his hand. He pulls Richie back out wordlessly and begins lathering his body with soap. Richie sighs as Eddie runs his hands across Richie’s chest and arms, working his way down his body. 

When Eddie’s finished with Richie, he begins washing his own body. It’s difficult because it seems that Richie’s hands are all over him at any given opportunity, roaming his chest or reaching to hold his hips.

“You  _ have  _ to stop,” Eddie says, swatting at him, and Richie pouts.

Eddie finishes washing his own body and turns off the water. “Get out,” he says lightly, swatting at Richie’s ass as he steps out of the shower. Richie laughs in delight and follows him.

They move like they’ve been doing this together for years. Eddie combs his hair as Richie runs a brush through his; they brush their teeth next to each other (Richie’s had a toothbrush at the apartment for weeks, and Eddie tries not to think about what that means). Richie elbows Eddie in the side unprompted and Eddie chokes, spits, and elbows him back. 

The silence is comfortable, warm, not like the chill, polite silence that usually permeates Eddie’s apartment when it’s just him there. There’s an anticipation, either one of them can say something at any moment, break the silence, but it’s not an  _ expectation.  _ They can continue like this, moving wordlessly in tandem, and nothing more.

“Stay,” Eddie says, suddenly panicking, gripping Richie’s arm. “Stay here.”

“Okay,” Richie laughs, breathless, and Eddie is calmed instantly,  _ of course he’s not leaving, he knows you,  _ and Richie follows him to bed.

Eddie scoots closer to Richie under the sheets and lays his head against Richie’s chest so he can hear his heart beating, a steady, comforting thing. He doesn’t realize that he still has Richie’s arm in a vice grip until Richie speaks, soft, quiet.

“Eddie?” he says, laying his hand over Eddie’s own. “I’m not going anywhere, baby, you can let go.”

And it’s the truth, Richie’s not going anywhere, he’s  _ solid _ , home, and Eddie makes up his mind.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, shuts his eyes tight. “Sorry. But fuck, I do, I love you.”

He opens one eye cautiously and sees that Richie looks shell shocked, eyes wide and mouth parted in surprise. 

“Too soon?” Eddie asks meekly, already kicking himself.  _ Of course it’s too soon, you dumbass, you went and got attached to the first guy you dated, it’s not his fault- _

“No,” Richie says, “no, fuck, oh my God, don’t apologize,” and he raises Eddie’s hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I love you too.”

It’s like something clicks.  _ Soulmates,  _ his brain says, and Eddie thinks  _ yeah, probably. _

This is how it’s supposed to be, he thinks, this is  _ right _ , they belong like this and  _ Richie loves him too _ . Richie loves him too, and he’s not going anywhere. It’s simple, easy, and everything is as it should be.

Richie will stay tonight, and will stay forever after that, and Eddie is only too glad to let him.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was supposed to be a pwp. now it is 17k. i don't know what happened.  
> special thanks to [ree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reechie/pseuds/reechie) who, as always, was invaluable in helping me with this fic and who also appears briefly as the kind operator that eddie speaks to!  
> if u want to see me yell on twitter you can find me at [peachyylosxr](https://twitter.com/peachyylosxr).  
> thank you so much for reading!


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